Chapter 56: The Fourth Corner

“And then I told him I would take his staff and his necklace if I ever found out he’d used the power of his position to do harm instead of good!”

Olyrrwd had rolled his eyes when Herrwn told him how shocked and distressed Ossiam had been to learn that Caelym had almost thrown himself over the edge of the cliff above the Bottomless Falls. He raised one eyebrow and lowered the other at hearing Ossiam’s explanation that he’d dropped the dice accidentally and moved the playing stones without thinking about what he was doing. He muttered, “Like what?” at hearing Ossiam’s account of giving Herrwn aid until Benyon arrived.

And now, as Herrwn repeated his own stern parting admonition, he scoffed, “Well, that must have made him shake in his sandals!”

In view of Olyrrwd’s open skepticism of an innocent explanation for Ossiam’s actions, Herrwn was braced for an escalation of the hostilities between his cousins. He was both surprised and relieved that, over the ensuing months, relations between the two took a turn for the better.

No longer deriding Ossiam’s every pronouncement and prophesy, Olyrrwd reserved his challenges for matters of substance—and then began his refutation on some point of agreement (if only their shared devotion to the Goddess) and delivered his rebuttal calmly, respectfully, and without even a hint of sarcasm. Ossiam likewise adopted a more civil attitude so that their exchanges, both public and private, were conducted with courteous formality.

Herrwn had not been fully aware of how much the hostility between his cousins had weighed on him until it ended, and he said as much to Olyrrwd, who responded with touching sincerity, “I should have listened to you sooner, for you were right all along—I badgered him and he tormented me, and since I cannot make him a better person, I must be better myself.”

They’d just returned to the classroom and were still talking over the unexpected and unorthodox outcome of what had started out as an impromptu and informal meeting with Ossiam, during which the oracle had eloquently waived any claim to Caelym and, going further, had given effusive blessing to both his entrance into the third level of study and to his double discipleship as both a bard and a healer.

It was precisely the sort of thing that in the past would have led to a prolonged and fruitless exchange between them over the oracle’s motives, but while Olyrrwd had countered, “It’s just his way of weaseling back into your good graces,” when Herrwn asserted that this had been a peace offering, he said it without rancor and with an undertone of resigned forbearance. And when, still pondering the unexpected turn of events, Herrwn insisted, “In any case, he could not have meant for Caelym to think that this was to be the council determining his entrance to the priesthood, and he must have been just as surprised as we were,” Olyrrwd merely said, “So it would seem.”

As that was an ambiguous response, Herrwn felt it necessary to press the issue further, pointing out that Ossiam had not said what it was he wanted to speak about when he asked them to join him in the high tower that morning, that he had not given Caelym any more than a casual nod as he stood up from the breakfast table, and that he had looked genuinely astonished when the three of them came down from the tower stairwell to see Caelym sitting on the stone bench in the antechamber, dressed in pristine robes, his hands clasped together in the traditional pose of an initiate-in-waiting.

Whatever had given Caelym the notion they had gone to the tower to decide his future as a Druid priest, it was clear from how he’d looked at them—his dark eyes shining with expectation—that this was what he thought.

Herrwn had glanced at Olyrrwd, who shrugged and nodded. They both knew that Caelym was already doing lessons well in advance of the second level of studies. They’d long since agreed to share the final phase of his training. Now, with Ossiam’s approval to proceed, there was no reason to wait another two years, so Herrwn had nodded back and they simultaneously put out their fingers to touch Caelym’s forehead, acknowledging him as their disciple and welcoming him to the fellowship of priests of the shrine of the Great Mother Goddess.

Sliding off the bench and down onto his knees, Caelym had recited the traditional pledge of his eternal gratitude. Then, having run through a flowing litany of the high deities by whom he solemnly swore to prove himself worthy of the honor they bestowed on him, he asked in an anxious, boyish voice, “And will I be given a quest?”

“Of course you will be given a quest!” Ossiam spoke out before either Herrwn or Olyrrwd could respond.

Overjoyed, Caelym leaped up, announced he had to tell “the girls” he was a real priest now and was going on a spirit quest, and went off dancing and turning cartwheels before Herrwn could temporize that so long as he continued to attend diligently to his studies, he would, in all likelihood, prove himself ready to undertake his quest at the ordained age of eighteen.

As Caelym bounded off, Herrwn turned to remonstrate with Ossiam for speaking out of turn only to see the oracle’s shadow flitting up the stairs to the tower.

“Well, that’s that!” Olyrrwd said in a surprisingly restrained tone of voice.

He didn’t say anything else until they’d walked back to the classroom and he’d gone to the cupboard where he kept his private store of medicinal brews, poured two cups of elderberry wine, handed one to Herrwn, and lifted his own, saying, “Here’s to our new disciple!”

After sharing the toast, Herrwn had begun the conversation cautiously, opening it with praise for the exceptional civility of Olyrrwd’s interactions with Ossiam. Now, encouraged by Olyrrwd’s calm demeanor, he ventured to ask, “So what do you think of Caelym’s going on his spirit quest when he will be but sixteen on his next birthday?”

They’d gravitated to the warmth of the hearth and were standing side by side, looking at the flames rather than at each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Herrwn could see that Olyrrwd, who tended to gulp down his wine when he was upset, was drinking it slowly and swirling it between sips.

“Sixteen is too young for some things”—Olyrrwd lowered his bushy eyebrows and gazed into the little whirlpool he’d created—“but may be just the right time for him to go hunting for his animal spirit.”

“Do you really think so?” Herrwn was surprised and disconcerted that Olyrrwd did not see the risks of Caelym’s undertaking his spirit quest two years earlier than normal.

Instead of clarifying why he thought Caelym, young and impulsive as he was, was ready to leave the safety of the valley for the dangers of his spirit quest, Olyrrwd shifted his gaze from Herrwn to the shelf where he kept his Ghost Stones board and back to Herrwn again before saying, “What I think is that we’ve rounded the fourth corner.”

To someone unfamiliar with Ghost Stones, Olyrrwd’s reply would have made no sense. Herrwn, however, knew both the game and his cousin so well that its meaning, though layered, was all too clear.

In the game of Stones, “rounding a corner” referred to a player moving the hindmost of his stones past a corner space and onto the next side of the game’s track.

Rounding the board’s fourth corner had a particular significance. With only this last section of the track left to play, all banter and bravado fell away and it was rare to hear more than the tumbling of the dice, the soft tap of the stones being moved, and, perhaps, the drumming of a player’s fingers on the table.

So, in part, what Olyrrwd meant by saying they’d rounded the fourth corner was that Herrwn should not hold out hope for a genuine reconciliation between his cousins but rather accept that they were simply too caught up in their stratagems against each other to waste any effort in open hostilities.

There was more to it than that, however.

Because “rounding the fourth corner” meant playing out the game’s final phase, it had become a euphemism for the coming end of a person’s life.

This latter meaning reminded Herrwn of the afternoon seven years earlier when they’d stood together on the shore of the lake and Olyrrwd had skipped a stone across the water. He’d counted the number of times it bounced that day and announced, “Twelve! I have twelve years left.”

Unable to envision his future without Olyrrwd in it, Herrwn repeated what he’d said then—“You are not an oracle, and skipping stones is not augury!”

Evading the thrust of Herrwn’s assertion, Olyrrwd muttered, “You’re right, I’m not an oracle—and I have real work to do if Caelie’s going to be ready for his quest.”

With that, he put down his cup, picked up his walking sticks, and lurched out of the classroom, leaving Herrwn feeling deeply disconcerted.